


Prayer Meeting

by adoration



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Church Sex, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoration/pseuds/adoration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bethany attends a prayer meeting at the Chantry every week. The prayer portion is incidental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prayer Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10749.html?thread=42366461#t42366461) at the Dragon Age Kink Meme.

The weekly women’s prayer meeting was Bethany’s favorite event of the week. Not because it was the only time she was allowed out of the Gallows, though that was definitely a bonus. Nor did it have anything to do with her devotion to the Maker … which did, she admitted, make her feel guilty from time to time.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she gasped, for what felt like the hundredth time. Maybe it was. It wasn’t like she was keeping count. 

As usual, her creeping guilt was pushed away by a hand slipping inside the collar of her robes. The buttons at the back hung open just enough for Bethany to feel the cool winter air dance across her upper back. Then she forgot all about the cold, as Sebastian’s skilled fingers pinched her nipple, just hard enough to make a jolt of pure pleasure run through her. “Shhh,” he said, pressing closer to her back and kissing her neck lightly. “They’ll hear you.”

At this particular moment, it was unlikely that the prayer group would hear anything, as they were reciting a verse of the Chant in unison. But she took heed; if she allowed herself to let go during these sessions, it was likely they’d be able to hear her screams all over Hightown. At the very least, the Templars standing guard in front of the Chantry doors would hear her, and they might be forced to do something about these visits.

(They knew - of course they knew - and she kept several of those regularly entrusted with her transport to the Chantry well satisfied in exchange for their silence. But it was best not to push her luck, because if she were forced to give up Sebastian … well, none of the Templars quite satisfied her the same way.)

She was wicked, that much she knew - wicked and disrespectful, because the sound of the Chant being performed just a room away aroused her, the way the cadence of the words rose and fell in time with Sebastian’s ministrations, as he played with her nipples and raked blunt fingernails into the soft, sensitive surrounding flesh. Sometimes, they’d move quickly, so that he was already inside of her when the Chant began. Sometimes he whispered the words in her ear as he thrust, and that verse was never the same - she blushed even to read it in a book now, because she’d forever hear it in his gorgeous, rolling accent, breath hot in her ear as she hit the peak of her own pleasure. 

As the Chant continued, muffled but distinct, Bethany felt the remaining buttons on her robes give way, and the garment fell to the floor. She wore nothing underneath for these visits, nothing that would hinder their process. Being naked in the Chantry was such a rush of wicked pleasure. This whole thing was so very, very wrong - sometimes, when she returned to the Gallows after seeing Sebastian, she would go straight to the chapel and kneel in front of Andraste, begging her forgiveness for her wanton ways. When she stood in front of her young students, teaching them how to control their own fire, she felt nothing but ashamed of her own heat, and the way she indulged it week after week. An addiction, it was - an addiction to the feel of Sebastian’s hands skimming down her belly, to the anticipation that paralyzed her, left her rigid in his grasp while she waited for him to touch her in that sweet, secret spot. 

But his hand stopped just short of the curls at the juncture of her sex; Bethany had to bite her lip to keep from crying out when he stepped back. Sebastian grasped her shoulder, gently pushing her until she’d turned around. “Down,” he murmured, his hands dropping to the fastenings on his breeches. So that was how he intended it to be today - he intended to draw it out until the last possible moment. Bethany remembered a week in which she’d been forced to run out of the Chantry with his seed still wet on her thighs, her cunt still so sensitive that it felt as if her orgasm continued with each step she took across Hightown. Honestly, she preferred the days when she was allowed to breathe after they were done, when she could catch her breath and regain her composure in private. But, at the same time, she reveled in the feeling of his cock sliding across her tongue, as it did now. His hands tangled in her hair and pushed her slowly forward, until she could feel his curls tickling the tip of her nose. She grasped his hips and sucked, hard. “Perfect,” he sighed. And really, if the price for hearing him say that was having to vibrate her way back to the Gallows … well, she was willing to pay it.

In the adjoining room, the Chant gave way to the Mother’s sermon of the day. Bethany listened as closely as she could, given the circumstances - she was occasionally called on to recount the meeting’s lessons, which meant she couldn’t tune it out completely. It was difficult, though, to concentrate on a message of self-sacrifice while Sebastian fucked her mouth. Then again, she was currently “sacrificing her own desires to give back to another,” wasn’t she? The laugh that bubbled up from her chest very nearly choked her, causing her to inhale when Sebastian’s cock was nearly touching the back of her throat. She coughed, just once, then clapped her hand over her mouth - had someone heard her? 

Sebastian, for his part, had concern in his eyes - until he met hers, which likely sparkled with her suppressed mirth. “Had I the time,” he whispered, pulling her back to her feet, “I would redden your lovely ass until you begged me for release.” 

“I would gladly submit,” she whispered back. But they’d never have the chance, and they both knew it. These brief encounters were all they were meant for. Bethany tried not to think of that too often.

Sebastian pressed his lips to Bethany’s, just for a moment. It was a gentler gesture than they were usually meant for, and Bethany felt something inside her unravel at the momentary contact. But too soon, his lips were gone; in a smooth motion, he lifted her up onto the ledge she’d been clinging to earlier and spread her legs wide apart. The ledge wasn’t quite wide enough to support her, so she had to rely on his weight to hold her up, which he kindly provided when he grasped his cock and guided it into her hot, waiting cunt, pressing his hips into hers as he slid home. She clasped her arms and legs around him, holding him still for a moment. This was the part she wanted to capture, to remember in her narrow bunk back in the Gallows. The feeling of being full, of being on the edge of something wonderful.

And then he was moving, and it was all Bethany could do to keep silent. As it was, she always worried that the sound of their flesh meeting would carry over the Mother’s quiet sermon. From her vantage, the sound seemed to echo throughout the room, broken only by the occasional gasps they both let out when silence was impossible to maintain. She could live like this, Bethany thought - she could live in the waves of rising pleasure he drowned her in, all exquisite friction and sweat and heat. She’d choose wicked sin over a righteous life in a heartbeat, if only it was available to her. Perhaps that condemned her to forever live outside of the Maker’s light … but truth be told, the Maker himself had put her here when he gave her magic, so why shouldn’t she seek warmth where she found it? 

The low sound of the Mother’s voice was replaced by a chorus of song - the end of the prayer meeting was drawing near. Sebastian clearly heard it too, as his thrusts began to come faster. Bethany gripped his shoulder with one hand, holding herself up while she slid the other hand between her legs, letting her fingers press against her most sensitive spot with each thrust. They had only a few minutes, not nearly enough time to take their pleasure, maybe this would be the week they were discovered …

Bethany met Sebastian’s eyes; he gave her a small smile before changing his angle just so, thrusting upwards as Bethany’s fingers met just the right spot, and …

… she flew. 

She was only vaguely aware of his final erratic thrusts, and the feeling of his seed spilling inside of her. She floated down from her high, listening to the voices of the women in the other room sing sweetly of the Maker’s love and devotion. Maybe, she thought hazily, she wasn’t quite as wicked as she thought she was. Maybe this was the Maker’s way of giving her the love she craved. Even if this wasn’t love. She would never be loved in the way she’d dreamed of as a child, but if this was as close as she could get, she’d take it.

After they separated, Sebastian helped her with her robes. Bethany could hear the Mother giving her final blessing as he finished fastening her buttons. “Until next week?” he asked, pressing his face into her hair.

“Next week,” she agreed. 

She may not have a future to speak of, but she’d always have the next week.


End file.
